


An Unconventional Means of Settling the Score

by oceaxe



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-07
Updated: 2017-04-07
Packaged: 2018-10-16 02:21:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10561788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oceaxe/pseuds/oceaxe
Summary: Harry and Draco have been friends for years, and Harry’s pretty much resigned to keeping his inconvenient attraction to Draco under wraps. But when Draco insists that he repay Harry for the life debts he owes him, Harry can’t resist making a lame joke that might have more than an element of truth in it. And when Draco takes the joke and runs with it, Harry can’t resist seeing what might happen. Features sensation play, mild bondage, orgasm denial/edging.Written for Prompt 120 by Lomonaaeren.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lomonaaeren](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lomonaaeren/gifts).



> Many thanks to AmoretteHD and Alternativename for the beta! I’m so glad I got a chance to participate in this fest, as I credit it with helping me get active in fandom again last year! Although I didn’t write anything last year, the stories were so amazing that I couldn’t help getting invested and commenting, and it led to a huge renaissance in my creative life as well as a very fruitful re-engagement with fandom. So much love to the mods for running this fest!

I didn’t mean to do it. Well, strike that—obviously I meant to do it. I saw that Draco was in danger and I reached out and grabbed him back onto the sidewalk—but I didn’t even see the bus coming so I’m not sure that I can be said to have “saved his life.” I had no idea that he was in mortal danger, I just wanted to save him from stepping into the honking great puddle that lay in wait on the pavement. Because then our entire pub night would be consumed by him whinging on about his ruined shoes and his mud-spattered trousers and did I know etc etc something about the price of Italian loafers. 

In retrospect, it’s clear that was all the kneazle’s fault. If Draco hadn’t been trying to avoid the cursed thing, I wouldn’t be in the position I am right now: spread wide, achingly hard and waiting for instruction. I’m not complaining, mind. I should probably find that kneazle and give it a mouse or something.

At any rate, going back to that night, I pulled him back from what turned out to be impending death-by-public-transport and then I made a remark that went over like a lead balloon: I might have jokingly referred to the life debts he owed me and how they were piling up. 

And he, well—it pissed him off. “Look, Potter, don’t you think I know that?” he’d said, his features pinched and cold, eyes blazing.

“Hey now, don’t get excited, it’s only three. Well, four now, I guess, ha,” I said, making matters infinitely worse. Because he went from being angry to being dejected. Angry Draco could be a bit of fun—dejected Draco decidedly less so. 

“Don’t worry about it, mate,” I said, bumping his shoulder with mine as we approached the pub. “I’m not planning to collect on them, you’re safe.” I held the door for him and he walked through head held high, but his shoulders were hunched in on themselves. It reminded me too much of how he used to be, years ago.

It’s been years since we became friends, that’s hard to believe. 

Anyway, as we entered I looked around for Dean and Seamus but they hadn’t shown up yet. I’d yet to notice that they hadn’t come out for a pub night in a while. I reckoned Dean was probably working on a new show, and Seamus must have pulled a new bloke and was breaking him in. 

“I can’t believe I owe you another debt,” Draco muttered to himself while we stood at the bar, waiting for the bartender to notice us. 

“Two whiskeys, thanks,” I said to the surly young woman as I tossed some money on the bar. Drinks in hand, I found us a table by the window. Draco sat in the seat opposite mine as usual, and dragged one tumbler closer to him, picking it up and nearly draining it one go. 

“Draco, it’s not a big deal,” I started, but Draco cut me off. 

“It’s a big deal to me. It just is, Potter. Don’t question it. I wish I could just wipe the slate clean.”

“As far as I’m concerned, it’s all clear,” I said, taking a sip of my drink and settling back in my chair, countering his tense posture and hoping he would just relax already. I hadn’t seen him this tense in a long time. Not since—well, not since the last time I saved his life.

“You really don’t get it, do you? The imbalance of power here,” he sneered, gesturing between us. “It’s not something I-” Draco broke off and looked out the window, a strange look on his face. I didn’t like it. 

“Well, let’s just figure out something you can do to, uh, repay me then. Isn’t that how it works?” 

Draco slumped in his seat, head in his hands. I was starting to tire of the melodrama, honestly. He was usually a lot more fun than this. 

“It has to be something you really want, Potter. And you and I both know—well, what can I give you that you want? That you don’t already have, I mean.”

That stopped me cold. Something I really wanted. 

Well, the funny thing was that he did have something I wanted, though I spent a lot of energy trying not to confront that fact. 

“Let me think about it,” I said. “I’m sure there’s something.”

“It can’t be- look, I know you’ve had your eye on my antique Snitch collection, but it can’t be a material item, it has to be—more like a service. Like something I can do for you.”

Ugh, that was even worse. There were dozens of things he could ‘do for me,’ none of which I was willing to ask for. Once again, I made matters worse by trying to turn it into a joke. 

“Well, Ginny said I’ve been getting a big head lately, can you boss me around a little bit? Take me down a peg or two? You’d probably love that.” 

Draco’s head snapped up. His eyes narrowed. “Do you want that?” he asked, a little intensely. 

“What?”

“Do you need someone to put you in your place? If I were you, I would have entirely lost touch with reality by now, all the groveling and sucking up people do.”

“If you were me, you’d have crowned yourself King of Wizarding Britain years ago.”

“True. But I did think your latest initiative with the DMLE was a little power-grabby. Maybe you do need to be taken down a peg. Or two.” His eyes were shining with malicious glee now and I felt a knot loosen in my chest. This was more like his usual self; I could handle him taking the piss but I didn’t know what to do with him when he was moody. 

“I don’t know about needing it in my professional life,” I said, laughing. “Maybe in the bedroom.” The moment it was out of my mouth, I regretted it. Why did I blurt out the most awkward things when I was around him?

“What?” Draco’s eyebrows climbed up his forehead, an incredulous look on his face.

“You know, boss me around in the bedroom. Maybe smack my arse a little bit, make me beg.” I couldn’t imagine why I was doubling down on this joke. It wasn’t even funny. And it was getting perilously close to some version of the truth.

“I could do that,” he said, chuckling softly. Then abruptly he sobered. “Are you being serious at all?”

“I—not really, no,” I said, forcing out a laugh. I suddenly wasn’t sure whether I was serious or not. I wanted him to do _something_ to me in the bedroom, but I wasn’t sure that ‘bossing around’ was really on the list, and moreover I didn’t want it to happen via some kind of so-called obligation. I decided to cover the awkwardness with more drink, tipping my glass back and swallowing the rest of my whiskey. 

“Another?” I gestured towards his empty glass as I rose to go back to the bar. He nodded and turned to look out the window. Fuck, had I made him uncomfortable? 

When I returned with our drinks, everything seemed mostly back to normal, though Draco still seemed distracted. 

Draco and I had struck up an odd friendship around six years ago, when we realized our sons’ friendship was not going to fizzle out (as clearly both of us had been hoping) and we’d have to figure out a way to interact like members of polite society. After a few false starts, we now had a regular pub night and the occasional dinner or Quidditch match. It was strangely comfortable. 

Possibly I relied on it too much when Ginny left me for Luna, possibly he leaned on me even more heavily when Astoria’s long illness took her. But those two events aside, we mostly kept things light. Not that I hadn’t found myself sometimes wishing for a little more depth, but Draco was so closely guarded it seemed pointless to risk the camaraderie we’d found by pushing for more. 

“So, things are getting dull with you and Xavier?” Draco asked as he took his drink from my hand.

“Oh, I didn’t tell you. We ended it. About two weeks ago.”

Draco didn’t have much of a reaction to that, which was surprising. He hadn’t liked Xavier and had barely bothered to disguise his distaste. 

“Hm. So, about taking you down a peg.” Draco steepled his hands under his chin, raising an eyebrow at me. 

“I thought we’d gotten past this point in our relationship, Draco,” I said, frowning at him with exaggerated disappointment. “You don’t obsessively insult my hair or fashion sense or intelligence anymore, I don’t rub your face in my superior social standing and magical prowess.” 

“That’s not what I was talking about,” he said, his gaze flickering over my entire body for a fraction of a second. I went hot all over, my cock going half-hard with no warning. 

“Ha, right. The domination thing. Well, I’ve tried a lot of crazy things in my day,” I started, only to be interrupted by derisive scoffing. I glared at him, shaking off the sudden blaze of arousal. 

“You’ve no idea the kinds of things Ginny got up to,” I finish.

“Well, I’ve some idea,” Draco drawled, looking smug. “Lovegood, for one.” 

“Low blow,” I said, chuckling. 

In all honesty, it had been a relief when Ginny sat me down and very lovingly and tactfully let me know that she and Luna had fallen in love and wanted to be together. Only three years had passed since the divorce but the teasing didn’t bother me. I’d never had too many bad feelings about it—mostly just loneliness and a sense of wondering when I’d find something like Ginny had found. The kids loved Luna, of course, and now she was part of the family. It was good, it was nice. 

“Seriously, Potter. I want to lay this to rest. It’s gone on too long.”

“I had no idea the life debts thing bothered you so much. For what it’s worth, I’m pretty sure that pulling you back onto the sidewalk doesn’t warrant a life debt.”

“Perhaps not,” Draco mulled. “But the others.”

Fiendfyre. Stopping the neo-Death Eater revenge plot. The bezoar. 

“Yeah, but you didn’t identify me to Voldemort,” I reminded him lamely. His expression didn’t change.

“Just think of something. Or I’ll sneak into your bedroom and tie you up and you’ll be stuck with me dominating you as your payback. And we both know you don’t really want _that_ ,” he said with a wry smile, looking intently into his whiskey and then back up me from under his lashes. 

“Right,” I replied. “I’ll, uh. Think of something.”

 

*

 

But I didn’t think of something. Because every time I tried, my brain kept circling around to Draco’s offer. The thing was, it was pretty far from the first time I’d ever contemplated him in that way. It was a well-worn pathway those thoughts were treading. Which didn’t help me get rid of them. 

So I spent the better part of a week tortured by images of Draco sneaking into my bedroom and performing all kinds of kinky tricks that to be honest had never seemed all that appealing before. I hadn’t thought I was the type to enjoy being ordered around, but my libido seemed to disagree, at least when it was Draco giving the orders. 

Sadly, I knew he had just been taking the piss. He enjoyed nothing better than to catch me off guard and embarrass me. As soon as he sensed a weakness, he homed in on it—it was just his way. It didn’t normally bother me too much. In a way, I rather liked the assumed intimacy of it. At any rate, it was just a joke. I needed to think of something else.

I wanted to take this seriously. For some reason it hadn’t occurred to me before, but since it had come up, it was suddenly clear to me why the life debts would bother Draco as much as they did. He was proud of his change of direction in life, and his independence from his family name and fortune. He was a self-made man, with his potions enterprise and the small cottage he’d built for his family out near Hogsmeade. Draco didn’t want to owe anything to anyone for any reason. While I never thought of the life debts as actual debts, to him they clearly were. 

So, I did my best. 

 

*

 

The sound of Floo alerted me to a visitor, and at this hour it couldn’t really be anyone other than one of my kids—or Draco. 

I shuffled into the kitchen to see Draco seating himself at the huge communal table, beckoning Kreacher over to ask for a drink. 

“Would you like something, Potter?” Draco asked magnanimously. The presumptuous twat.

“Offering me a drink in my own home?” I grumbled as I sat down across from him. I was wearing a thin t-shirt and flannel pajama pants and felt severely underdressed. Draco was dressed to the nines, which wasn’t out of character, but the contrast between us was usually less stark. 

“We’ll both have Firewhiskey neat, thank you Kreacher,” Draco said without looking at him, waving him off with one hand. Kreacher, the traitor, bowed cravenly, a look of adoration on his face. He popped away and back, and I took my tumbler of whiskey and drained half of it in one go.

“So, Potter. Have you thought of anything or do I need to break out the restraints?” 

A full-body flush worked its way over my skin while I tried and failed to come up with a reply. If I wasn’t very careful, I was going to fuck up our friendship with this obsession. The fact that it hadn’t exactly come out of nowhere was irrelevant—it hadn’t been a problem before and now it suddenly was. If I could only come up with something for him to do for me, the inconvenient jokes would stop and I could go back to pretending my feelings for Draco were simple and straight-forwardly friendly.

“Yeah, uh, no need for restraints,” I said, trying to keep my tone light. “You’ve always told me how—how did you put it? How ‘criminally under-educated I was in the ways of the Wizarding World.’ So you could tutor me on the history of, you know… the Wizarding World,” I trailed off, watching his eyes glaze over. 

“But it has to be something you need, Potter—are you telling me you agree with me, that you need that?”

I stopped to consider. Honestly, the answer was no. I had chosen that more because I thought he might enjoy it.

“I didn’t think so. Next,” he said imperiously, swirling the amber liquid in his glass before raising it to his lips for a dainty sip. I watched his mouth, saw the wet shine of the whiskey on his lower lip before his tongue slid out to wipe it away. I was obviously going insane.

“Well. You could—oh! I know!” I said, brightening. This was perfect, this was something I actually needed and something that would be difficult enough to feel like a sacrifice. Draco looked skeptical. “You could brew the department some Polyjuice Potion! But loads of it, like a vat. We’re working on a case that will—what?”

Draco was glaring at me. “That’s what I get paid to do, Potter. And any potions dealer could provide that. It can’t be—look, isn’t there anything you want from _me_? That only I can give you?”

Fuck, this was so much harder than I wanted it to be. For that matter, my _cock_ was so much harder than I wanted it to be. “I—I guess I’ll have to keep thinking,” I said, defeated. 

“Kreacher!” Draco held his glass out to the side and Kreacher refilled it instantly, popping out of nowhere so quickly that it startled me and I sloshed the remainder of my drink all over my shirt. It soaked through and clung to my skin, the dark hairs on my stomach showing through the fabric and making me feel uncomfortable. Without thinking, I stripped the shirt off and tossed it in a corner, muttering a curse. 

When the cool air hit my skin, I twigged to the ridiculousness of what I’d done. My chest and stomach in all their middle-aged glory were on display. Luckily, Draco was studiously ignoring me. 

“Put a shirt on, you drama queen,” he drawled as he tipped his head back and slugged his whiskey. 

I had gotten up from the table, feeling incredibly off-kilter, and turned to head up the stairs when I heard Draco mutter, “For god’s sake—Accio shirt!” A dozen of my shirts flew threw the air and landed on the table. 

“Jesus, how much do you _not_ want to see my naked skin?” I said, a little bit stung. As I reached past a formal dress shirt for another ratty t-shirt, I looked up and met Draco’s eyes. 

“A lot, apparently,” he murmured, but then his gaze slipped down over my chest and lower. He bit his lip and I paused, staring at him. A thought struck me at that moment. Maybe this was less one-sided than I’d thought.

I pulled the t-shirt over my head and sat back down, head spinning.

“Are you taking this seriously, Potter?” Draco sounded hurt. 

“I am. I swear. I just… I don’t know. Like you said, I just have—I can’t—” I shut myself up. This wasn’t helping. I drank some more whiskey. 

“Are we not friends?” 

“Merlin, Draco, why would you say that?”

“It just sometimes feels like this is a one-way relationship. I don’t know what I have to offer here. What are you even getting out of this?”

This was starting to remind me too much of arguments with Ginny when we were teenagers. I wanted to reassure him, but at the same I wanted to go upstairs and jerk off to the memory of his eyes hungrily sliding over my torso. I guess he liked chest hair, who knew?

What I really wanted was to take him up on his offer to boss me around, to drag him up the stairs to my bedroom and get down on my knees before him and tell him how much I needed him. But it just didn’t feel like the right moment. Not yet.

And actually, I’d probably misread that look, anyway. It was far more likely that he was just comparing my hairiness with his own hairless and sculpted-marble abdomen. (I might have caught a glimpse of it once or twice over the years.)

“I’m sorry, Draco. It’s late and I’m tired. You’re not—you know I’m shite when it comes to this kind of thing. Give me another week. I’ll figure it out.”

“I hope you do,” he said mildly, but his expression was dark as he got up from the table. “I’ll just be going. Thanks for the hospitality.” 

After he left, I went back upstairs and as soon as my back hit the bed, I took myself in hand and jacked myself raw. I hadn’t wanked like that in years, sweaty and frantic like a teenager. It was over practically before it began. I wiped myself clean and closed my eyes, but sleep wouldn’t come. I realized that I had probably fucked up irreparably by letting him leave without getting some clarity.

He was trying to get me to … what _was_ he telling me? My head spun from the drink and I tried to piece it together. He wanted to square the life debts. He was tired of the friendship being—unequal or something. But I didn’t know what that meant. And why did he keep joking about tying me up? I had thought he was taking the piss for my poor attempt at a joke in the first place but-

Then there was that look. Was I making too much of it? 

My mind spun itself out on these thoughts and I reached no firm conclusion by the time the grey light of dawn crept across my bedclothes.

 

*

 

We bumped into each other at the Ministry a few days later. 

“Potter,” Draco said stiffly, giving me a tight little smile but not slowing down at all. 

“Draco,” I replied, reaching out to touch his arm. He looked down at my hand and stilled, then turned around to face me. A powerful sense of expectation settled around us; he obviously thought I’d come to some decision about what to ask of him. But I hadn’t. I was going to let him down yet again. 

“Pub night still on?” I said lamely.

Draco looked towards to the line of huge marble Floos across the Atrium, his lips forming a flat line. “I might have double-booked myself that night. I’ll let you know.”

Shit. “Sure thing,” I said, a fake smile plastered to my face. 

Pub night came with no word from Draco. I couldn’t bring myself to owl him, so I just went to the usual place and ordered a drink, hoping that he’d show. And if he didn’t, then it would be good to see Seamus and Dean. 

After the first drink, it finally occurred to me that I hadn’t seen Seamus and Dean in a long while. Possibly it had been months, but I hadn’t missed them until tonight. Because Draco was always with me, and when Draco was with me, other things tended to fade into the background a bit. It was an uncomfortable realisation. 

Two drinks in, I found myself feeling a little bit pissed. Who was he to talk about things being unequal between us? It seemed to me that I was the one who made the running, more often than not: setting up the pub nights and dinners and matches, owling him when I hadn’t heard from him in a while. It was me who was struggling with an attraction that refused to go away no matter who I dated or for how long. It seemed pretty unbalanced alright—all on his side. It felt like he had all the power. 

On the walk home I kept ruminating about that. Power. He’d been talking about taking me down a peg or two, like it would be fun for him. I had always assumed that he was still a little resentful of my celebrity status and position in the world, but I had hoped we’d gotten past him thinking I liked to lord it over people. Apparently not. He wanted to change the power dynamic between us by getting rid of the life debts… and he wanted to do it by giving me something. Not something material. Not something that anyone else could do. Something that I needed.

Well, I could still only think of one thing that I needed from him that I didn’t want from anyone else. I hadn’t wanted to go along with his suggestion, if it wasn’t just a joke, because I didn’t want to endanger our friendship. But hell, it seemed like he was unsatisfied with the friendship anyway. 

So maybe I should just ask him for what I needed. And if he wanted to give it to me while I was chained up and helpless, so be it. 

I pounded up the stairs to Grimmauld Place and slammed the door behind me, heart racing. I was going to do something about this and I was going to do it right then. Man of action, that’s me.

I had no idea what I was getting myself into, or whether I had misread the whole situation. He might just laugh in my face. 

My closet refused to show me anything appropriate to wear for putting oneself at another’s mercy, so I kept on the jeans I was wearing, traded the rumpled button down for a fresh t-shirt, tidied my hair (yeah, right) and splashed on some cologne. 

“Okay,” I said to myself in the mirror. “You’re going to let Draco boss you around and tie you up and whatever. It’s going to be weird, but it will probably also be hot, and you might even see him naked. He’s likely going to make fun of you, but it seems like this is what he wants to do and maybe even what he needs. And Merlin knows you need it. Maybe not in exactly this way, but who cares.”

I raced down to the kitchen and stood frozen on the hearth, heartbeat pounding in my ears. Was I doing this? 

I poured myself half a drink, for courage. And then half a drink more, for good measure. The reassuring warmth spread through me. 

I was doing this. 

I tossed some powder in the grate and shouted Malfoy’s address as if I were charging into battle, landing on his hearth with an embarrassing stumble. Dusting myself off and trying to regain my dignity, it took me a while to realize that he wasn’t in the room. My Auror skills kicked in—I listened closely for sounds of human activity, amplifying my hearing with a quick spell after a few seconds of silence. 

There it was: a muffled creak on the floor above. I had only been here once before and never outside of the parlor, so I went first to one door and then the other, looking for a stairway. There were none. The git had saved space in his cottage by eliminating stairs. Ingenious but also infuriating. And as I didn’t know what the upstairs looked like, I couldn’t Apparate up there. 

“Draco!” I yelled, sounding more than a little unhinged. I heard a muttered “fucking Potter,” and then he popped into existence almost on top of me, where I stood by a low couch. He stumbled backwards, then shook himself and moved away to the sideboard, fiddling with a decanter. 

“What are you doing here, Potter?” he asked with false calm. I could see how quickly he was breathing. 

“I’m here to take you up on your offer.”

“I wasn’t aware that I’d made an offer,” he hedged. “Unless you’ve thought of something I can do for you, like I asked.”

“I did. It was the first thing I said. Take me down a peg or two. Boss me around.”

His mouth fell open and he looked away quickly. “Tell you how you’re not as great and all-powerful as everyone seems to think? List your flaws and your—your faults?”

“No. Take me upstairs.” I demanded, then realized how I sounded. If we were going to play his game, I needed to act the part. I lowered my gaze and bowed my head. “Please,” I said softly, blood rushing to my face. For some reason, that one syllable, that one capitulation, went straight to my cock.

“Do you know what you’re asking, Potter?” he said, his voice wavering. “Is this what you need?”

“I don’t—I wouldn’t have thought so.” I raised my head to look at him then looked down again. I couldn’t look him in the eye right now. “But if you’re not joking, if you want to—restrain me, or whatever—I couldn’t stop thinking about it, so maybe. Maybe it is what I need.” 

My heart was about to hammer its way out of my chest, adrenaline flooding me and making my legs shake with the need to _do_ something. Flee, maybe.

He didn’t say anything. I kept my gaze focused on the rich colors of the old rug beneath my feet, but I felt him approaching, the floor vibrating softly as he padded towards me.

“Look at me.” His voice, usually a silken baritone, was graveled honey. 

I raised my head and my breath caught in my throat. I hadn’t seen a look that intense from him since the last time we faced off, back at school. He raised his hand, stroking the back of it over my cheek. My cock twitched and my eyes fluttered shut. I couldn’t believe this was happening. 

“I’m going to tell you how this will go,” he said, his posture shifting, confidence and command radiating from him. “You will do as I say, the moment I say it. I’m not going to hurt you or go past your limits. If I tell you to do something you don’t want to do, or if I’m doing something you don’t like, you may say “red” and I will stop. If you’re not sure whether you want to do what I say, you may say “yellow” and I will wait. Otherwise I expect complete obedience. Do you accept?”

I nodded, not trusting my voice. I was disturbingly aroused and didn’t think I could manage coherent words. 

“I need a yes, Potter,” he insisted, sounding strained. My eyes opened and met his hot gaze.

“Yes,” I said, and he smiled, a kind of disbelieving triumph on his face. I watched as he shifted his expression into a knowing smirk. 

“Excellent.” He wrapped an arm around me and Apparated me into his bedroom. I was just on the cusp of being overwhelmed by his scent and the warmth of his half-embrace when he stepped away, flicking his wand in my direction. The room went dark and I realized he’d blinded me. I gasped.

“Do you need to say something?” he asked, gently. I shook my head. I didn’t need to use a safe word. My prick was as hard as it had ever been, I wondered if he could see the outline through my jeans. There was no way to know what he was looking at or where he even was in the room now. I was at his mercy. A thrill went through me at the knowledge. 

I felt him get close again, felt his breath against the back of my neck as he circled me. A hand brushed against the small of my back and he pushed me lightly, causing me to stagger forward a step. “Come this way. To the bed.”

Oh fucking hell, we were really doing this. Doing what specifically I had no idea, but I was pretty sure there was going to be—well, what? Nakedness? Orgasms? Kissing? I swallowed hard as I realized I actually had no clue what he was going to do with me. 

To me. 

Draco brought me right up to the edge of the bed, my legs bumping against the frame. He stood right behind me, the heat of his body slowly leaking through our clothes and warming my back. My breathing was starting to falter; I had to consciously try to steady it. 

“Lift your arms up,” he murmured in my ear, his breath tickling me and making me shiver. “Over your head.” I complied, holding my left wrist with my right hand and feeling bizarrely exposed. Fingertips drifted up my sides and around to my front, stroking lightly down my chest and towards my waistband. I gasped as his fingers slid down the front of my jeans, just slipping under the waistband of my pants. 

“Evanesco,” he said softly, and I felt my jeans and pants vanish, the cool air on my thighs and cock. I spared a moment of regret for the loss of my favorite lucky underwear, but as it seemed they’d served their purpose, I couldn’t be too put out about it. 

He rested his chin on my shoulder as his hand hovered over my erection. “Stay absolutely still, Potter,” he breathed. I could feel the heat of his hand but he kept it what must have been a millimeter away. It took every ounce of willpower I had to stop myself shoving forward into his waiting palm. 

It was torture staying still - all I wanted in the world was to cancel the blinding spell, turn in his arms and sink my tongue into his mouth. I wanted to kiss him so badly I was trembling with it. 

He had his other hand on my hip, thumb stroking restlessly, then he brought it around to my arse and palmed the cheek. I made a sound I’m pretty sure I’ve never made before, a desperate whine like a dog. 

“Eager, yes, Potter, I thought you would be.” I blushed fiercely. “I like it,” he continued as his fingers dipped into the crack of my arse, just teasing. “It’s nice.” Then he licked a stripe up the side of my neck and I almost collapsed from the rush of blood south. My dick leapt and brushed his hand without me shifting at all, and I could feel how the wetness at the tip slid across his palm.

Suddenly he moved away; I was left standing alone at the foot of a bed I couldn’t see, unsure if I’d done something wrong by letting my cock jump. I wanted to protest that I couldn’t help it. 

“Climb up on the bed,” he said. “All the way up, I want you sitting against the headboard.”

I did as I was told, cock bouncing against the bed as I crawled up. I felt extremely self-conscious as I searched for the head of the bed, not even knowing how big the damn thing was. I could hear him moving closer as I touched a carved bit of wood and turned around, leaning up against it with my head tilted back against it. I wondered what I looked like - was he pleased to see me like this? Did I look ridiculous? My stomach flipped over.

“Hold your hands out to the sides.” Draco’s voice was rough and low—it made me want to drape myself over him and lick any parts of him I could reach. But it made me want to obey him more, and that was a surprise. 

I did as I was told and stretched my arms out, hands against the headboard. I felt the press of his body against the bed as he leaned over me, then heard a muffled spell and something broad and soft constricted my wrists, jerking them back against the wooden frame. As I grappled with my breathing, Draco straddled me, strong thighs heavy against my own, our bare skin sliding together. I tried to picture us in my mind and a rush of arousal flooded me - he was _naked_ and his prick had to be close to my own. Part of me regretted that I couldn’t see him during our first time together. But I’d agreed to this and I would see it through. 

“We’re going to play a game,” he said, shifting his weight over my thighs. “It’s called, what body part is this? And since you’re-” He pressed on my wrists with his hands, his weight shifting closer- “restrained, the only thing you can use is your tongue and lips.”

Something brushed against my mouth; it felt like it was probably his fingers but they didn’t move so I couldn’t get a good sense for the shape or size. Slowly I opened my mouth, sliding my lips over the part pressing lightly against them. I brushed my lips over it, moving my head back and forth. It was almost certainly his hand, but to make sure I darted my tongue out. A mild taste of salt, the friction of skin, a seam and then a space between - I thrust my tongue between his fingers and he shuddered out a breath. 

“Fingers,” I said, my voice so rough I barely recognized it. In response, he slid his hand down and rested his fingertips on my lower lip. I ran my tongue over them and then sucked the first two into my mouth, exploring the length of them, nibbling on the pads of the fingertips. I hoped I looked sexy and not stupid, but mostly I was feeling overwhelmed to have part of Draco’s body in mine. His elegant, dexterous hands had featured in more than one fantasy and here they were, in my mouth. I moaned helplessly around his index and middle fingers.

“Good boy,” he whispered as he withdrew his fingers and trailed them down my neck and across my chest, lightly circling a nipple and then tweaking it.

The nipple-tweak wasn’t nearly as shocking as my own reaction to his words. A burst of warmth in my chest that felt bizarrely like pride, and jolt to my cock that caused my hips to lift off the bed, seeking friction. 

“Ah, you like praise,” he said thoughtfully. “Good to know.” I felt his weight shift again and the heat of his body closer to mine. And then it was like a wall of heat in front of me—his torso was inches away from my face. 

“Open up. Taste this,” he ordered, his voice coming from above my head. How—was it—oh Merlin, was his cock right in front of my face? I could barely breathe from wanting it. I opened my mouth and inclined my head forward, my tongue darting out shyly. It met warm smooth skin, and I circled it around, feeling for a shape but finding an expanse of muscle instead. His stomach, I realized as my tongue slipped into a deep divot—his bellybutton. It startled laughter from me; such a sweetly intimate thing, but a flash of what his naked torso looked like appeared before my mind’s eye, and suddenly it wasn’t funny. 

“Belly,” I murmured against his skin, then swirled my tongue in the elastic skin of his navel and hummed in appreciation of the taut firmness surrounding it. Draco was really fucking fit. I already knew this, but getting my mouth on him drove it home in a new way. If only I could _see_ him. 

I felt the bed shifting as his knees shuffled even closer until they were bracketing my hips tightly, and I knew what I would be tasting next. My hips bucked off the bed in response to the knowledge.

“Easy, tiger,” Draco chuckled as he held my mouth open with his thumb, his fingers tracing the line of my jaw tenderly. He was so much more different than I’d thought he’d be. Gentle, slow, teasing—this was even better than I’d imagined. He sounded affectionate, which wasn’t something I ever really thought I’d get to hear from him. It made my head spin, my heart ache. I wanted more of it. 

“I want to see your tongue, show it to me,” he said, voice uneven. I opened my mouth more and did as he asked, seeking what I hoped I would find. His scent surrounded me, musky and intensely exciting; I wanted to live right here in this mess of brain-addling pheromones. His breath shuddered out of him as he shifted again, and slippery bitterness burst over my tongue. I groaned and lapped more precome, tracing the shape of his foreskin where it was retracting over the glans, chasing the folds to get more of his taste and scent. He moaned and sighed, pushing himself against my mouth. 

I backed off ever so slightly to whisper “Your cock,” then dove back in to suck the head in my mouth, playing with the frenulum for a long, rewarding moment while Draco whined in the back of his throat. God, this was fucking amazing. I longed to see his face but honestly, I was so thrilled to have his cock in my mouth at last that my current sightlessness was for the best—I could focus on the sensations alone and not be overwhelmed that this was all happening with him, finally. 

My no-hands blow job technique could probably have used some work, but to judge from the noises Draco made, it was more than adequate for the moment. His hand came around to hold me gently by the back of the neck, fingers stroking through my hair and sending tingles down my spine with both the sensation and the possessiveness of it. I did my best to unhinge my jaw and just let him have full access to my mouth and throat, so when he started gently thrusting in and out, I was ready. And I went for it, not caring how I must look, letting the saliva drip out of my mouth to cover his shaft as he pumped his cock in me, over and over. 

He pulled out of my mouth with a grunt, leaving my mouth hanging open, then rubbed his dripping wet cockhead all over my lips, muttering something I couldn’t make out. Suddenly the heat and pressure of his body vanished—he had pulled away and was sitting on my thighs again, panting. 

“You’re… _very_ good at that, Potter. I could fuck your mouth all day, so fucking hot.” Draco sounded unsteady, almost drunk. Next thing I knew, I could feel his breath, his mouth just barely brushing against mine. “Now, what’s this,” he whispered.

“Your mouth,” I said against his lips, and tasted them for the first time. They curved against my own; I knew the exact smile Draco was wearing at that moment. A sharp pang went through me that I couldn’t see it with my eyes, see what he looked like right before we shared our first kiss. 

I pushed the thought aside and licked into his mouth, nibbling his lower lip before sliding my tongue against his, soft and slow. He returned the caress, angling his head to deepen the kiss, and my heart lurched as everything within me responded to him. This was about so much more than a blow job, or bedroom games between friends. The intensity of the kiss made that starkly clear. I moaned into his mouth and opened my own wider, allowing him all the access he wanted. 

Draco pressed himself against me, his erection sliding stickily against mine, and held my head firmly while he fucked my mouth with his tongue. I arched up into him, wanting the restraints off, wanting to get my hands on him. We kissed until my neck was getting a crick from being held in one position but I didn’t care, he was incredible and I felt like I was floating. 

He steadied his hands on my shoulders and pushed away with a sigh. “You’re good at that too, Potter,” he drawled, voice rough. “You’re not giving me much room to take you down. Hm. Oh, now _there’s_ an idea.”

He slithered down my body to come to rest at my cock, to judge by the hot breath ghosting over the head. I was beyond ready to be touched, but I was honestly already missing his mouth on mine. That didn’t stop my dick from twitching, and he huffed out a little laugh before enveloping the length of me in one brilliant tight slide down his throat. 

“Oh fuck!” I shouted, my hips lifting involuntarily off the bed. His mouth, oh god, his mouth was doing everything I had ever hoped it might, having spent hours trying not to stare as he twirled a swizzle stick between his lips, pursing them around a toothpick or a quill tip, sucking his fingers clean after a messy pile of fish and chips. His problematic oral fixation was finally working in my favor and Merlin, I wasn’t going to last long, not with everything that had come before. 

“Draco, oh please, please,” I said, my voice strangled and harsh. “Fuck, I need to—”

“I know what you need, Potter, shhh. There’s a good boy.” He pressed down on my hips and took me in til his nose was buried in my pubes. My thighs quivered and shook, my orgasm rushing up on me and I cried out, meaningless garbled words. And at that moment, he pulled completely off me, the insufferable git.

“Noooooo,” I couldn’t stop myself moaning, unable to care how pathetic I sounded. My hips thrust my cock into the air, seeking the heaven of his mouth again. 

“Now, Potter,” he instructed, his voice a silken threat, “I’m going to need you to do something for me.” As he was talking, I felt my arms drop as my restraints apparently were adjusted to have more give. I felt his hands slip under my shoulders and slide down my back, his breath in my face for a moment as he pulled me down the bed a few inches, so that I ended up nearly reclined on my back, knees bent. 

“Or rather, it’s something you’re not going to do,” he said, one hand playing lightly with my balls while the other stroked the shaft of my dick with featherlight touches. I squirmed and he slapped the side of my arse, a quick sharp tap. “None of that. Stay still. Now, as I was saying,” he purred, continuing to tease my cock mercilessly. He sounded like he was having the time of his life, keeping me on the edge of a shattering release. 

“You’re not going to come until I say ‘come,’ understand?” 

I nodded and licked my lips. I was so ready for more stimulation—I would do anything for his lips, fingers, Christ, his cock—that the full meaning of his words didn’t really register.

“Potter, this cock is a gift from Merlin,” he murmured as, to judge by the way his voice traveled, he lowered himself back down to hover over my crotch. I sucked in a breath at the feel of his hands framing my balls, one slipping down to tease along my crack and the other getting a firm grip around the base of my straining erection. Hot suction enveloped the head as he took it in, pumping the shaft with slow, milking motions. 

My sightless eyes rolled back in my head and my back arched off the bed. Fucking hell, but he was good at this. How was I supposed to stop myself from coming? It was impossible. But I deeply didn’t want to let him down, so I tried holding myself still while I cast about for an unsexy thought. Unsexy thoughts were thin on the ground given my circumstances, however, and I couldn’t keep my hips from pumping up into that suffocating heat. 

Draco’s mouth should have been a crime, it was against public policy for something so lewd to just _exist_ around others. I saw it in my mind’s eye, all the times that he’d traced his upper lip idly with one finger while pondering the infinite stupidity of the Ministry (for example), or pursed his mouth while considering which finely-pointed insult to deliver, or licked over his beautifully bowed lower lip while he decided what drink to order at the pub. That mouth was on my cock at that moment, and it was the most explosively sensuous thing that had ever happened to me. 

I was going to come. “I’m-” I managed, and then he pulled off and squeezed the base of my cock hard enough to stop the oncoming freight train of my climax. The sound I made in response was hardly human. 

“Shhhhhh, love,” he said softly, smugly. “I’m going to take care you.” He teased the cleft of my arse again with one finger as he kept his hand firmly in place around lowest part of my shaft. “I won’t make you wait forever, though it might feel like it. But isn’t it nice to savour something like this?” He punctuated this question with a generous sloppy kiss to the glans, causing me to cry out again.

“Draco,” I crooned in a pleading voice, but I couldn’t seem to form any other words. 

He didn’t reply, but his weight shifted like he was leaning off the bed, then he returned and whispered something I didn’t catch, distracted as I was by the sheer physical need for more friction. I nearly bucked off the bed at the sensation of warm oily slickness filling my arse and dripping from my hole. 

A finger circled the perimeter, wiggling a little before sinking in. His other hand stroked up, thumb rubbing the head and the sensations had doubled in intensity, I could feel my climax winding up even with just that bit of stimulation. As Draco drove his finger in and out and then added another one, jacking my cock all the while, a fierce need to come rapidly built to primal necessity—I bit my lip and did my best to squirm away from his hands but I didn’t have enough room to maneuver. 

Draco laughed, a filthy chuckle that nearly triggered the orgasm I was trying so hard not to have. “Don’t worry, Harry, I’m not going to let your inability to control yourself spoil our fun,” he said as he took his hands away, leaving my dick to twitch helplessly in the air. This on-again off-again stimulation was an agony of pleasure, I couldn’t take much more. I dimly registered that I was whining when he put a finger up to my lips. 

“Hush now,” he said, a smirk lacing his voice. Then he wriggled his finger between my lips, finding my tongue. “Taste.” It was a fat drop of my precome—or maybe—of his? 

“Precome,” I said, panting. 

“Yours or mine?” 

I took a gamble based on my own hope. “Yours.”

“Good boy,” he said, and then my cock was surrounded by his incredible mouth again as he worked my shaft with sure, firm strokes. Two fingers nudged at my wet hole and slid in, scissoring and stretching. It was too much, too fast, my thighs shook and I wasn’t going to be able to hold it back at all, no matter what he did this time. Fuck, it felt like my whole body was on fire, I was gasping and thrashing, my entire being a desperate impulse towards release. And he took his hands away again. 

I howled and bucked and cursed, but it was as if he’d left the bed. I didn’t hear him, didn’t feel his presence. My hips thrust weakly, in spite of my efforts to relax. I felt like I was going out of my head—hell, out of my body. I’d never been this turned on in my entire life. I felt lit up from within, blazing with heat. Like I might be literally glowing.

“Look at you,” he said, from somewhere near the foot of the bed. “You’re amazing. God, Potter. I never knew.” He sounded reverent, almost. I’d never heard him sound anything like this. I felt his weight on the bed again as he crawled up to where I lay, a sweating, trembling mess. I tried to feel self-conscious and couldn’t—I was one taut bow of tension waiting to be plucked. I needed him. I needed him to touch me, just one touch.

“What do you need?” 

I couldn’t form words.

“What do you need, Potter? You’re not getting my cock until you tell me.”

My heart was pounding out of my chest. 

“You.” I’d meant it to be a declaration but it sounded more like a plea.

“Oh, I’m sure you feel that way right now, no doubt.” I didn’t like the tone in his voice, it was too flippant. I felt exposed, horribly so.

His hands settled on my thighs, pushing them further apart, and then came his fingers again, trailing around the loose ring of my hole, dipping in and out idly. 

“What—what do you mean?” I gasped.

“Why are you _here_ , Potter?”

All the possible responses raced through my mind. _Because you wanted to clear the life debts. Because you wanted me to be here. Because I want to fuck you. Because I’ve wanted to fuck you for a long time. Because I want you. Because I can’t remember a time when I didn’t want you._

“Take the blinding spell off me,” I said.

“Why?” His tone was terse, unreadable.

“Because I want to see you when I say this.”

He didn’t say anything in reply. A wave of fear and disappointment swept through me—had I ruined the moment? Was he going to stop? What if we never did this again?

The next moment, my vision returned. It was extremely blurry, just shapes at first. I blinked my eyes, then blinked again, trying to focus. Gradually the blur resolved into a haloed outline, adding details with each blink. Draco, naked, glowing with sweat, hair mussed, looking like a debauched angel. Despite the lingering haze around him, everything was coming clear. 

“Why are you here,” Draco repeated, hushed and low.

I swallowed and took a deep breath, meeting his gaze. 

“I’m here because I need you. I need this. I want you, Draco.” His face was blank, mouth falling open. “I think—fuck it, I know I love you. I think I’ve loved you for a while now.”

His eyes fluttered shut and he was silent for a long moment. Then the slowest, sweetest smile formed on his lips, growing until he was smiling guilelessly at me, like he couldn’t help it. 

“Oh yeah?” he said, smug as hell but so happy. He was so _happy_. I felt the answering grin on my face, blinding and irrepressible.

“Yeah. What are you gonna do about it?” I answered, feeling reckless, ecstatic.

“Fuck, Potter,” he exhaled shakily, running his hand through his wrecked hair. “I think I’m going to fuck you. That alright with you?” 

I laughed, my stomach doing crazy somersaults, my dick leaping to attention again. “I thought you were supposed to be calling the shots. I’m still at your mercy here,” I said, pulling on the restraints in demonstration. His gaze followed my wriggling movements hungrily; the smile slipped off his face to be replaced by an intent look that raked over me from head to toe.

“Yes. You’re right, for once. So see here, Potter, I’m going to fuck you good and proper. And you’re going to take it like a good boy.”

Now it was my turn for my eyes to flutter shut. Fuck if I didn’t love the way he was talking to me. The best part was that I could tell how much he liked it, how it soothed some part of him that hated being out of control. I liked giving that to him. I liked him. I loved him, in fact.

“Yes, please,” I said, voice unsteady. “I want that. Please.”

The look he gave me was so intensely—fond—smouldering—ravenous? All of those, and something indefinable, something that made me go incomprehensibly pliant and receptive. I was all in for this, with every last part of me. 

“Ask and ye shall receive, Harry,” he said as he reached out to finger me again, giving me one last good stretch before lining up, the head of his cock bumping the sensitised rim of my hole, making me jolt. Before he breached me, though, he leaned over me to press a kiss to my forehead, then to my mouth. I captured his with mine, deepening it until we were biting each other’s lips, sucking on each other tongues, humping each other, frantic and driven. He backed off, breathing fast. 

“Enough of that, you’re not going to get out of this by distracting me, you naughty thing,” he said, lips twisting in a self-parody of self-possession. I could see how moved he was, and how desperate to prove that he was mine, that I was his. “Ready?”

I nodded and tried to keep my eyes open, to watch his face as he entered me. But the first push was too intense, his cockhead slid in all at once and my neck arched and eyes closed involuntarily. 

“Ahhh, god!” I shouted as he groaned at the feel of me clenching around him.

“Let me in, Potter,” he growled, and pushed in incrementally, causing me to gasp at each small thrust. 

I tried to spread my legs wider, only to have them pulled up so my ankles rested on his shoulders. The new angle allowed him to sink in with less resistance; within seconds he was balls-deep in me, head thrown back in ecstasy. I could barely look at him. He was so gorgeous in his pleasure; in taking his pleasure from me.

Draco wrapped his hands around my shins, holding me in place, his lower torso undulating and pumping his cock in and out. I watched him, mesmerized, the sinuous movement of his hips as erotic as anything I’d ever imagined. My gaze traveled up his belly, his chest—he was as firm and lovely as a dancer, I wanted to worship the perfect symmetry and proportions of his body with my hands, my mouth. When I reached his face, he looked so open and full of need that my cock twitched, pulsing a stream of precome. His eyes flickered down as it happened, and he caught his lip in his teeth, shoving up inside me with a groan. 

“YES, oh _yes_ , Draco—like that, please, please,” I begged, arching up towards him. 

“Potter—Harry—oh fuck, you—you look so good like this, gonna keep you like this forever,” Draco panted. He grabbed me under the knees to haul me up a little further on him, and the change in position made his cock graze my prostate on every other thrust. I heard myself moaning continuously, a slurred litany of encouragement and pleading that spurred Draco to pick up the pace, pushing into me harder, faster.

“Don’t come yet,” he commanded. I grimaced and shook my head—the bare edge of pain that had held off my climax until now was fading fast, replaced by a rising wave of pleasure. There was no way I was going to be able to stop myself, it was all too much for too long, too intense and too _good_.

“Draco, I—I can’t,” I stuttered as my body convulsed under him. “I have to, I have to, please let me come!”

“I’m not going to let you come,” he said, and I sobbed with frustration and need. “I’m going to _make_ you come.”

Then he jerked on my legs until they were straight up in the air, holding onto my calves with a bruising grip as he pounded into me. It was an all-out assault on my nervous system; within seconds I was shaking and cursing and crying out, flushed all over as my completion took me over.

“Come,” he growled, and I came. I came and came and came, spasming around him, shooting white ropes onto his chest and groin. As they landed on him, he swiped his hand through the streaks and brought it up to his mouth, sucking and licking like I’d covered him in the elixir of life. It was the hottest thing I’d ever seen, or may ever see. Then he was pressing me in half, gasping in my ear as he filled my arse with his come. 

The immediate aftermath was a haze of slowly settling limbs, sticky readjustments, sighs and soft contented hums. I was barely coherent, my body slack and glowing with satisfaction. Draco lay on top of me, face buried in my neck, for long moments, and I was perfectly happy for him to be there. To stay there. Indefinitely. 

After a while, though, by mutual unspoken agreement we separated, him rolling off of me and settling on his side. He wandlessly gestured to the restraints and they fell open, releasing me with a pang of muscles held too long in one position. The lack of any other pain attested to some pretty fancy spellwork, for which I was grateful.

I lay there next to him, listening to his breathing and my own. Gradually the moment approached when we would have to acknowledge the momentousness of what had just happened. I wished we could just move past it, assume that this was going to happen again, and with regularity. With commitment. I didn’t want anyone else. I hoped he didn’t. 

“Potter,” he said in a low voice, almost tentative. He probably thought I was asleep. 

“Mmm?” I said, not wanting to start talking yet. His body next to mine was narcotic, I could fall asleep quite easily. 

“Do you want-” Oh and here it came, the offer to process this, to address our feelings. I thought we’d covered that territory pretty well during the main event. “I need to go get something, I’ll be right back.” 

He’d slid off the bed before I could make any response, or even open my eyes. By the time I’d sat up, he wasn’t even in the room. I heard noises in another room and lay back down to wait, mild anxiety prickling my nerves. I closed my eyes against it, hoping to seem relaxed when he came back.

After what felt like half an hour but was probably only ten minutes, he returned with a small bottle and a few towels. 

“Turn over, Potter,” he said.

I could have pushed back; after all, the sex was over and my impression was that his license to boss me around had expired. But I didn’t—I complied without hesitation. Part of it was relief that he didn’t want to talk right away, but most of it was just that I enjoyed doing what he wanted. At least, in this context. It felt good. It felt, oddly enough, right. 

I turned over. Draco gently spread my legs and wiped me clean with a warm, wet towel. I sighed and opened my legs wider to give him better access, and he sighed, then chuckled. 

“So accommodating, Potter. All it took was a first-rate reaming, I should have done this years ago.” 

“Think you might call me Harry now?” I murmured sleepily, feeling as content and warm as a well-loved kneazle. Being taken care of by Draco felt wonderful, almost too good. Better than the sex in some ways. 

“Harry,” he conceded reluctantly, humour in his voice. “Hold still, I’m going to apply some of this potion.”

I heard the pop of the ampule opening and then a slick finger circled my puffy, tender hole. Immediately, the soreness receded, leaving just the faintest ache in its wake. 

“That’s—nnnggh, Draco, you should sell that.”

There was a brief amused pause. “I do, actually,” he said. “You must not have frequent need for something like this. It’s all the rage in certain communities.” 

“I don’t usually—do that. Not for a while.”

“I’m sure you’ll improve with practice,” he said teasingly.

“I don’t know, seemed like you enjoyed yourself,” I said, refusing to take the bait.

He hummed noncommittally and wiped the excess salve away, then patted my arse and lay back down beside me, again on his side. 

“Better?” he asked, and I rolled on my side to face him.

“Yeah,” I said, and my answer encompassed much more than the wellbeing of my body. “So.” 

He smiled at me, then repeated, “So.”

“Was that… what was that?” I asked, hoping he understood what I meant. I really wasn’t good at these kinds of conversations. Witness my dating history.

“Well,” he drawled, looking into my eyes. “I believe I just bossed you around in the bedroom and you liked it enough to declare your love for me.”

I nodded. That’s pretty much exactly what had happened. “And you—how much did you like it?” 

His mouth twisted sardonically and he turned slowly to lay on his back, closing his eyes. “I liked it, Potter. _Harry._ I liked it a lot.” I could hear what he wasn’t saying and I wasn’t going to let him get away so easily.

“How much?” I asked, leaning into him, sliding my hand across his chest and lightly tweaking a nipple, because I could now, my hands were free and I could touch him. I felt giddy.

“You know how much, you arsehole.” His eyes were still closed but he was grinning.

“As much as me?” I asked innocently, as if I weren’t asking him to confirm that he was in love with me, too.

Without opening his eyes, he grabbed my hand and held onto it, bringing it up to his mouth.

“More,” he said. 

“Always a competition with you,” I said, but my heart was soaring. 

We were doing this.

 

fin!

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi to me on [Tumblr](http://www.oceaxereturns.tumblr.com)!


End file.
